Coffee Beans And Poppy Seeds
by CypressArtemis
Summary: He inadvertently caused dismay with those calculating penetrable stares and decadent silences, yet an arbitrary question somehow leads to a seemingly unachievable bonding through unusual means. Lemon.


**Title**: Coffee Beans and Poppy Seeds

**By**: CypressArtemis

**Summary**: He inadvertently caused dismay with those calculating penetrable stares and decadent silences, yet an arbitrary question somehow leads to a seemingly unachievable bonding through unusual means. Lemon.

* * *

><p>"What do you like to drink?"<p>

And just like that, the defining silence that consumed the air between them for the past two days had now been broken beyond repair, and they would never have it back again.

It was a random and simple question. It possessed no hidden meanings, no tactical trick, no underlying test at which to study her like those dismal blue colored hues of his seemed to do each time they fell upon her lithe form.

It just… was.

But, what? Nothing more than a clear-cut interrogatory statement, or at the very least, perhaps an attempt at civility between them?

She may never know.

Just like she'd never guess that unknowingly, in its wake, his inquiry began to lay the foundation for an understanding, a friendship of sorts, but more importantly, a connection. One she couldn't even begin to comprehend at this moment in time. Her eyelids jerked open instantaneously and those irises, enchanting with their rich rarity of purple, moved to the face of the nearby Espada.

The rugged man was just the same as ever, reclining back on a mountain of plush forest green pillows nestled neatly at the base of a large golden pillar, a white clothed arm draped over undoubtedly closed eyes. The man gave off every sign of disinterest possible but then again that didn't faze her. As far as she could gather that's how he approached every, and all, situations at his disposal, an uninterested tone mixed with a dreary tired gaze.

His head shifted at her silence and she bit her tongue as those unscrupulous blues took refuge on the pale skin of her face. His stare was penetrable and for an instant she would swear he was peering straight through the physical mass of her body to the bumpy white surface of the wall behind her. But they soon flickered and settled to lingering on her lips making her scowl at him with such intensity it would make Ichigo proudly smirk while declaring to anyone within the vicinity that he taught her everything she knows.

She hated those eyes with a fiery passion, just as much now as she did the first time she saw him.

* * *

><p>She could plainly recall defeating Aaroniero. It's difficult, if not impossible, to forget such an achievement let alone the intensity of anguish that throbbed unyieldingly in her punctured abdomen. She didn't have to look to know the surrounding area within the tower was covered in ice particles and the air freezing, because she remembered her breath, the moist warmth of the vapor appearing in puffs as she panted in desperation. She'd felt it pass her lips and watched it play havoc with that stubborn stand of blackness that lay defiant across the bridge of her nose while struggling to get up and move. Thoughts of saving Orihime, motivating her to carry on, a motivation for her distraught mind that her battered body just couldn't contribute to any longer.<p>

She was not human, she reminded herself time and time again when in the company of Ichigo and the others, but as she lay there dying for the second time it was only then that the revelation had hit home. What was the difference? Even as she grasped tight the snowy hilt of her newly refurbished zanpakuto, disorientation becoming more profound as torrents of blood seeped from the gaping wound and her eyesight blurred and became faded, her brain locked firmly on this anomaly.

It was almost funny now that she thought back on it. At first she was aware of chanting Orihime's name accompanied by the word save as though it were a mantra. That is, until her body went rigid and refused to obey her commands, then her thoughts dramatically switched to why are we considered so different from them?

She couldn't move, she couldn't get up, and she couldn't save Orihime. All she could do was think as she waited for her heart to pump the last bit of blood out and drain her veins completely, yet never once did it cross her brain to panic for her own life. It never screamed or willed her limbs to strive to cling onto the rapidly dulling life of herself. It was too focused on the concept that the scarlet liquid pooling beneath her belly and running outward, seeping into her robes and trickling across the ground like ripples on a pond's surface had caused.

No, she was not human. She was a dead human, a spirit, but like a human there was only so much blood she could loose before her eyes closed in that permanent sleep that people ignorant of afterlife feared so adamantly. Soul reapers and spirits had greater physical limitations, this is true, but the key word is limitations. Spirits and humans alike had limitations. They all ate to nourish their bodies, they all slept to replenish energy, they all felt the warmth of the sweetest memories as well as the sting of anguish, and they could all die.

She had died with her sister. She had been human once. Maybe souls thought themselves superior because they were already dead. Or maybe it was because they were enlightened while humans remained unknowing of what awaited after death. Or maybe still it was those born spirits, never knowing what humanity was like, that strived to feel superior and in turn polluted the minds of all with these self-righteous ideals.

It was shortly after this conclusion that her eyelids became too heavy and drooped shut in what she assumed to be her second death in over, at the very least, 150 years.

Aizen was standing over her when she had finally begun to regain consciousness. At first it was muffled undistinguishable words and voices that whispered through her ears and echoed in the back of her mind. It was surreal, the way she didn't quite feel in her own body, how nothing seemed to pertain to her or make coherent sense.

She fought to open her eyes and finally accomplished said feat when a hand rested itself upon the damp heated skin of her brow and the voice she knew all too well rang hauntingly in her ears, sending a horrid shiver to tingle down her spinal cord. "Hi, Rukia-chan."

She gasped.

Gin Ichimaru.

If nothing else, the silver strands of his hair were a dead giveaway and that atrocious grin that never left his face was strangling her as it had years ago. Her breath caught as she held in what little oxygen occupied her lungs and stilled her body, her heart pounding like a frightened rabbit in the presence of a deadly coiled cobra. Drops of venom seeping from elongated fangs as it stared on with cruel calculating eyes while the poor shivering bunny only capable of watching, waiting for the lightning strike it would never anticipate.

"What no greeting?" His fingers spread out over her forehead, three of which shifted under the black tresses of her hair , his fingertips massaging her scalp as his thumb ran slowly down the bridge of her nose. She shivered, and like the snake he was he struck out at the weakness by smiling brighter in that sadistic way of his and gripping her shoulder with his other hand. "You're breaking my heart Rukia-chan. I warned you about that noble behavior before didn't I?"

He was taunting her and had she not been so shaken and terrified by this man she would have yelled. She would have smacked him or thrown his hands off of her in great haste, but still to this day she found herself paralyzed for no logical explanation whatsoever. "G-Gin?"

"Gin."

His head made the slightest jerk of acknowledgment as he released her and turned away towards the recognizable voice of the former captain of squad 5. His shoes clicking softly on the tile floor as the darker haired man paced over to stand at her feet and stare down at her. She gulped and stared back, one word flashing in her head as his face imprinted itself in her mind's eye.

Traitor.

"Go fetch my dear Primera." His voice, like his face, was calm. It never shook or broke and those deep auburn eyes appeared glued to her face.

Gin seemed to sigh as he scratched the side of his head, his annoying grin faltering as he studied Aizen. "The Primera? What about Ulquiorra?"

Aizen turned and Rukia sighed in a brief bout of happiness to finally be free of the hard gaze. She glanced about the room, it was large, hardly lit, and she noticed she was lying on a very long table surrounded by chairs. Some sort of meeting room most likely.

"Are you questioning me, Gin?"

Sitting up she clutched her wounded belly, blood still stained the black material surrounding three ripped holes where the triton had dug insistently into her flesh. She fiddled with her uniform for a moment, looking through a piece of torn fabric she could scarcely make out a series of white cloth wrappings. Someone had definitely bandaged her up.

"Me?" Gin's smiled returned full force and he lifted his arms in a gesture akin to a shrug. "Of course not. I just figured you'd place her under Ulquiorra's command seing as how the human girl already is." He dropped his arms and turned back to watch her face go from hopeful determination back to one of sickened fear. "One more shouldn't be too difficult for him after all."

She bit her lip and stared at anything possible in the room except the silver haired demon off to the right. She severely hated that man, and those god forsaken smiles.

Aizen smirked, "I'd rather keep them separated. With the rescue attempt of their pathetic friends it would be far more troublesome to have a break out attempt as well." He paused, received an approving nod from his loyal follower, and moved to look at her in his peripheral vision. She was gnawing on her lower lip, eyes set on nothing in particular, and a vacent look danced in the violet orbs. He wasn't stupid enough to think for a second she wasn't already formulating an escape attempt. "Now, Gin, bring me my Primera."

"Of course." He made it a point to walk right in front of her. Her small stature stiffened the moment his side came into her line of sight and in response he reached out to grab the top of her head, kneeling till his smiling face was mere inches from her own. "Bye bye, Rukia-chan."

And with that he was gone. Her wide eyes staring at the empty spot he once occupied as his disappearing breath still tickled her face with its warmth. It was silent now that the room was one occupant short, but also less tense, which was a gracious thing. Her only sole worry now was Aizen, but then again he seemed in no hurry to dispatch of her or else she would be finding out if there was yet another afterlife by now. She was smart enough to realize that much. In fact the only reason she still existed was because for some unknown reason he allowed it to be so.

She swallowed hard and looked about. The brown haired man was now sitting at the head of the great table drinking a cup of steaming tea. His eyes were closed and he actually appeared to be relaxed. She cleared her throat and he was staring at her again, his hand lowering the dainty cup to the small saucer plate deliberately slow. "Something you need, Rukia?"

She laced her fingers together to stop her hands from trembling, their last encounter flashed in her head and there was an instant un-communicated understanding between them as their eyes locked for one terrifying second.

Step out of line, and I'll see you killed.

"What is the Primera?" Her voice shook and she immediately hated she didn't take the initiative to gain control of herself before opening her mouth. She sounded weak and vulnerable and in the prescience of the enemy she needed to sound anything but that. But what was done was done. No changing it and instead of dwelling she inhaled a deep breath and slid the well perfected Kuchiki façade into place, her face falling blank and devoid of emotion.

A subtle smile played on his lips as he watched this in much amusement. She was afraid without a doubt but refused to show it and for that he could find a fragile twinge of respect for her. "My Primera, my strongest Espada, will be watching after you." He leaned back in the chair and laced his fingers over his stomach, "There's little to worry over I assure you. He is a… distant and passive sort. Nothing like Nnoitra, who I will put you under should you act up too much."

Rukia's brow arched. For some reason that last sentence had sounded much like a threat despite his calm demeanor and the fact that Nnoitra ment nothing to her seing as how they'd never officially met in the first place. Still, somehow, obedience was suddenly far more appealing, at least until she had an opportunity to locate her sword and make a mental map of the extravagant fortress.

The door swung open with a screech and the long silhouette of a man displayed over the floor as the being sauntered past the threshold nonchalantly. Rukia hopped off the table and took a few backwards steps as the tall muscular male made his way inside, becoming more visible with each step forward in the somber room until he finally came to a halt a few feet away.

"Good Morning, Starrk." Aizen greeted and the Espada glanced at him, completely ignoring her presence as though she was some sort of insignificant being, like a spider in the crook of a corner. Her right arm snaked behind her back and clutched her left forearm as her eyes dropped from his admittedly handsome face to his feet. The power he emitted was intense at this distance and she labored to breath correctly without drawing attention to herself.

"Aizen-sama, you summoned me."

"I did." Aizen never moved from his seat as he raised a hand and gestured to the shinigami currently fighting the urge to flee the room, put some space between the Espada and herself, or just give up and allow her frame to collapse embarrassingly where she stood. She gritted her teeth defiantly when her knees shook with a traitorous threat to pitch her delicate body forward. "You're in charge of our newest guest. Make sure she remains in Las Noches and away from the human girl."

His grey blue eyes closed as he sighed heavily, giving little incentive to mask the fact that he was thoroughly annoyed at such a chore. It was Aizen's orders and he should obey but still he wasn't one for babysitting, especially a shinigami. "No one else can do this?" He reached up, laying his hand on the side of his forehead and began to rub circles over his hair and scalp like the sudden idea of being around her gave him an uncontrollable headache.

She swallowed hard as her knees trembled again, his power surging through the room making her body quiver at the pressure and her head spin with dizziness. She lifted her chin and dared a glimpse at his annoyed yet disinterested face. Again, she'd admit, he possessed a handsomeness that was lacking in many of the arrancar she'd run afoul lately, what with the wavy dark brown hair and masculine features, but when he suddenly opened his eyes to look directly at her for the first time she hated those ocean depths. They were narrowed at her and swept the entirety of her small form within a second in an obviously and unmasked calculating way, the coldness they held seemed much like contempt and… envy.

"I chose you, my dear Primera, for a reason. I wish for her to be kept at a distance from the human," Aizen hesitated and picked up the glass piece of china, clutching the tiny cup gingerly in his fingertips as he swirled the steaming bronze liquid. "And I trust you to be the most righteous of the others."

Blue eyes never detached themselves from the slowly slumping form of the black clad shinigami. The aura about him had increased steadily until it was visibly noticeable that she was fighting herself to remain in an upright position. "I see," he hummed and the surrounding air seemed to still as she reeled and gripped the shining surface of the nearby table, the overwhelming power rapidly dissipating. He sighed again. "She's weak."

She scoffed and glared up at him. He glared back, boredom evident in his eyes, yet his skin prickled with an excitement he hid well.

Oh yes, she already despised this man.

Her nails dug into the table, a slight snapping sound as one of the delicate tips broke off from the force against the solidity. She realized now what he had been doing. He had deliberately been releasing his own reiatsu in gently increasing waves just to see how much she could withstand before collapsing.

The bastard.

He than had the audacity to refer to her as weak. She'd never forgive him for that. She was most certainly not weak and the way he bit out the word made it seem like the world was divided into a weak group and a strong group, and according to him she was far from being placed in the latter. Rukia, on the other hand, had always thought of it more as a chain of power and she was defiantly not the bottom.

But then that was her logic when it came to fighting and physical strength. One person would always be weaker then another physically yet stronger than someone else, and when in the center like that what group could you possibly put them in? It was easier to think of each individual as a link on a chain that increased in power. She wasn't the lowest and she wasn't the highest. She was someplace in the center perhaps.

Then there was mental strength. She was strong in that department. She would never be convinced otherwise. She'd lived in Rukongai since she was a baby and never lost her sense of self or her morality. She survived with Renji while others died around her and yet she remained perfectly sane. She had the ambition to leave and got herself free of that despicable place. She entered school and became a shinigami. She made something of herself.

Even if Byakuya had not adopted her she still would have made it without him, albeit slower, but she still would have made it and that was what mattered. Those things alone should gain her some smidgen of respect but the only ones that seemed to give her that minuscule luxury were the ones who understood.

Ones like Renji.

They had to live with nothing and scraped by only by stealing what they needed to survive. When Byakuya came along there was a deep sense of confused frustration, because this was no longer necessary. He saw to it that she never went without anything she needed and this wasn't normal to her.

The routine of taking what she required had become a part of her, something natural like instinct, and yet it was rendered irrelevant the instant she stepped foot in the Kuchiki manor. She was sure if she'd ever asked for anything she wanted she would not go without that either, but to do so always seemed an imposition on his already benevolent generosity, so she kept quiet, took what she needed, and asked for nothing that wasn't a required necessity.

Rukia shook the thought away and growled low in her throat as she sneered up at the Espada with the best intimidating look she could muster, though he was unfazed by this, his face fell just the same. "You're going to give me problems aren't you?"

She opened her mouth intent on telling him to go to hell, to shut up, to drop dead, anything insulting, but when the sound of chair legs gliding over the floor resounded throughout the room her mouth closed. As the padding of footfalls approached her, her eyes fell back to the floor as Aizen stopped at an uncomfortably close proximity behind her.

"She'll be no trouble." A hand gripped her shoulder from behind and squeezed just enough to let her know he was serious. "Will you, Rukia?"

Her body shivered. His hand on her made her sick and she shook her head in response. She'd behave, for now.

Starrk seemed defeated, finally relenting to Aizen's wishes with a subtle nod before he turned and began walking from the room at a slow pace. When she failed to follow she received a nudge in her lower back and immediately scurried after the Espada. She kept a distance between them as he led her through long corridors and prestigious rooms of white. White, so much white, even their clothes. It was blinding and her eyes squinted in protest at the offending color.

When he finally stopped before a door her feet ached with a dull throb due to all the walking. She remained still behind him as he tilted his head back, "We're here." His arm lifted and the door was pushed open revealing the contents of what she assumed was his quarters.

He was already making his way inside as she hung back and loitered in the hallway. She could make a break for it. He was inside, not paying attention, besides he wanted nothing to do with her anyway so perhaps he would just let her go. But what if she ran into another Espada? And being without her sword that was a grim thought. She'd be dead before she could blink. She'd hardly beaten the 9th and even then she barely scraped by with her own life. She was wounded, without her sword, and the remaining arrancar would far surpass the one she fought.

She looked down the hall in the direction they came from moments ago in a deep sense of longing. She wanted to run more than anything in the world. The instinct to do so rocked her to the core, fingers twitched at her sides and her leg muscles grew tense with the overwhelming desire.

"Don't bother."

She gasped, eyes widening as her body spun around, her heart thudding in overwhelmed surprise when she came face to face with Starrk. He'd snuck up on her and she hadn't even noticed. His hand rose and it seemed he was about to grasp her but instead he froze and dropped it back to his side. "I'll catch you before you get five feet."

Her eyes narrowed, still in shock but naturally defiant she spat at him, "Are you threatening me?"

"Please," He sighed, turning away as though he no longer had anything to worry over. "Don't make me chase you."

She moseyed in after him reluctantly, glanced about and resisted the urge to comment about his room. It wasn't bad looking by any means it just appeared more like a room dedicated to relaxing, to sleeping. She bit her tongue hard. Aizen had commented he was a distant passive sort but that must have been fancy speak for lazy. She guessed in all his time planning to betray Soul Society, extracting the Hōgyoku from her body, and escaping, the man didn't exactly have time to smuggle a dictionary with him. The Espada's room appeared more of a shrine dedicated to Hypnos and Morpheus then a bedroom to simply hang out in.

A loud slapping noise drew her attention and she noticed a few darkly colored green pillows had been thrown from a rather large pile that he was currently maneuvering himself into. Apparently the few he was willing to part with were meant for her use and she stepped forward to grab them. Once clasped in her hand she moved to the far end of the exceedingly spacious room, dropped them, and sat herself down.

It was quiet and miserable with nothing to do so she resigned herself to stare at the man diagonal her. Her eyes studied the details of his face, his shut eyes, frowning lips, and the small patch of brown facial hair upon his chin. Her gaze drifted from his face down his neck and settled on the broken jaws hanging at the base and she glared, hard. Her shinigami intellect rearing up in earnest.

Hollow.

Creature.

Monster.

* * *

><p>For two long days the silence has been palpable. Neither spoke a word to the other, and any and all glances shared were swelling with hatred. Mainly on her part, but he wasn't above returning it with equal or greater intensity every now and then.<p>

But now here they were, staring at each other once more with the silence finally broken by the deep refined sultry of his voice that she surprisingly found was far from gruff and insulting. Actually it was almost pleasant, like she had come to find Ichigo's on occasion or Byakuya's which was always calm.

Starrk angled himself up onto his left elbow. He was a patient man, never rushing into things, and usually relaxed at all times, but this shinigami made his skin prickle and his body hum in a delightfully dangerous way. He inwardly cursed his hollow origins and sighed when he found that ever-present glare in those amethyst gems. "Must you insist on looking at me in such a way? I'm only attempting some sort of conversation."

Her lips pulled down in a frown but her furrowed brows and narrowed eyes remained just the same. She watched him for several seconds, his penetrable eyes appeared to look right through her yet again until his eyelids shut and he lowered his slim yet muscular physique back onto the bed of pillows. "Eh, never mind," he mumbled and draped his long arm back over his eyes.

She expected to hear him start snoring again. The Espada had some kind of uncanny ability to fall into instant sleep at any time he wanted. He was lucky that way. She had hardly slept at all the past two nights, tossing and turning relentlessly till she gave up and paced her side of the room in mind numbing defeat and exhaustion.

Every now and then she'd venture a glance in his direction when she felt the unmistakable bristling on the nape of her neck as if someone was watching her, and sure enough his arm would be raised as he stared sleepily at her in puzzled annoyance. It was like he couldn't fathom why she was having such trouble let alone why she insisted on ruining his own sleep by pacing the floor like a caged tigress.

Sometimes she'd notice, with much displeasure, that his muscles were tense like he was on edge, ready to lunge at her at any given moment. At first this was exceedingly intimidating and her heart would flutter in a surge of panic. He was a hollow, a monster. He could be preparing to kill her for all she knew, or readying himself to give chase if she decided to bolt from the room and he needed to stop her.

When this occurred she'd never voiced a confirmation or denial of such intensions. She'd simply slink back to her own cluster of pillows and plop back down, turning away from him to face the wall and trace her finger against the coolness of it, making little invisible bunny shaped patterns. She'd hear the fabric of his white and black clothing rustle as he shifted followed by the unmistakable intake and exhale of sleeping breaths.

They never spoke. Not once since the day he led her to the quarters that they would share for as long as her stay and in truth it irked her. It made her feel a deep resounding loneliness and longing she hadn't felt since the day Renji came along. She frowned in sorrow and her gaze flickered off to the side in reminiscence. It made her wonder why she didn't engage Lilynette when she attempted to make conversation with her.

She didn't despise the young girl, quite the opposite in fact, even if she should. She found her none too subtle ways of waking the lazy Espada rather humorous in nature and despite her unwillingness to laugh outwardly, inside she was a mass hysteria of giggles. Lilynette was something else, and if she despised the fact that Rukia was staying in their room or was in Las Noches in general she didn't show it.

Rukia bit her lip her expression softening as she glanced back at the hollow shinigami hybrid across the way. He hadn't moved so his face remain buried, hidden beneath his arm as he lay there, his conscious drifting someplace between awake and asleep.

"I like coffee," her soft reply reached his ears but it took him a moment to realize and between the time she spoke and he finally moved to sit up she had the sinking feeling that she was terribly wrong. He was asleep and she had missed the opportunity to relieve the mounting loneliness pent up inside her.

She was relieved when his gloved hand lay flat against the floor and pushed his powerful form into a sitting position. He didn't turn his body to face her but he did tilt his head until she was within sight as he reached up and rubbed the kinks of sleep out of his neck. "Coffee huh?"

His voice was the same mix of tired unenthusiastic she remembered, but there was something else. Something that resembled surprise.

"Yes," she confirmed and suddenly he stood. Her head cocked up as she stared at his towering form and she was skeptical as to what she should do as he made way for the door with sluggish steps. Should she stay put or should she follow after him?

He pushed the door open and ambled out. He never made a motion for her to follow so she sat there listening to the fading sound of his echoing footsteps throughout the corridor until they were gone from her ears entirely. This wasn't her first time being alone in this room but this was the first time he had left her alone while they attempted to have a conversation. She wasn't sure if she was more angry or upset at the moment but it was something that lit a raging fire in her and made her tremble and her fist clench with the vow to punch him in the stomach the very instant he sauntered back through that door.

She imagined it for a passing moment. Him walking in, her flash stepping over, and finally driving her tiny trembling fist into his abdomen with a proud confident smirk. It made her smile; a soft chuckle escaped her supple lips before she sighed. She could do it but the effect it had on him would be minimal at best and worst come to worst give him incentive to either turn her over to Aizen or slash her down with his own sword.

She shrugged, licked her upper lip, and flopped backwards onto the pillows before rolling onto her right side to curl up like a cat. She nuzzled her head into the plush softness and tapped her left fingernails against the floor as she stared at the mound of now empty pillows. For some reason she was actually starting to miss him.

She frowned.

She missed a lot of things. Like conversation, the bickering between herself and Ichigo, between herself and Renji, and even the slight affectionate embraces between friends. The gentle hugs or the light finger touches to her shoulder when one of them was worried for her.

Sighing she rolled onto her back. Those little things she took for granted, or never paid attention to, were the ones she missed the most, but there was no way in hell she was going to say that to this Starrk character. She could only imagine what would happen if she confided in him that she longed for a bit of physical contact. Either he'd stare at her, mouth agape, like the victim in one of those monster movies were the creature slowly rises from the depths of the lake or he'd take it completely the wrong way and start removing his pants.

She shuddered. That would be just her luck. All she'd really be looking for is a pat on the shoulder but she'd end up with a naked Primera. Either way though he'd get to say something sarcastic that would please him and humiliate her. Her teeth ground together in a grimace, lips set in a tight line.

Fucking hollows.

They couldn't possibly understand anything about the need for affection.

A clattering slipped from the hallway and filtered through the room causing the petite girl to sit up. She would have stood and dashed over to the door to peer out and locate the source of the commotion had Starrk not beat her to it by slipping though the doorway. She was perplexed.

His hands clutched a tray with two rather large mugs and quite a few foreign items wrapped protectively in a cellophane covering. Instead of returning to his usual spot he came quickly and quietly towards her until he was kneeling in front of her. He set the tray on the floor, and before she could muster a protest, yanked away one of her pillows to use as he sat down upon it.

Violet eyes swept the tray and she resisted the surprisingly strong urge to smile in gratitude, despite her better judgment, all the school teachings clashing vigorously with her own natural emotions like hurricane waters on a rocky shore. Not only had he procured coffee for the two of them but there were some kind of muffins cluttered in the center, cream and sugar lingering in individual glass containers off to the side.

She lifted a hand and poked thoughtfully at one of the muffins, an eyebrow arching as she attempted to decide whether or not to take the chance of consuming one. Firstly, she had no idea if she even liked these things and secondly, she was never aware that Espada ate anything that resembled actual food. She'd always just assumed they ate souls or each other.

The thought was enough to gross her out to an extent yet the pang in her stomach willed her fingers to curl around the golden lump, the wrapping emanating a crinkling noise as she set it down on her thigh for later. She eyed the coffee. That was her first priority.

Starrk noted the confusion on her face and watched her until the consumable item was placed in her lap. "I figured you'd be hungry by now," he stated plainly giving a point to the piece of food lingering on her leg. Why she didn't eat it was beyond him, especially when he could make out the hint of a growl coming from her gut.

She nodded in agreement and reached out to take her cup, clasping the handle as she held it up and studied it, taking the time to inhale the delicious aroma. That may have been her favorite thing about the drink in question, the scent. "I am," She paused and swept a hand about the room as curiosity finally got the better of her. "Why don't you have anything to do in here anyway?"

"I like to sleep," came his simple reply and when she choked back a laugh and muttered the word 'lazy' he snorted.

"Is that all you do?" She was huffing and he could tell she was annoyed, but with him or boredom, he wasn't sure.

He thought for a moment, "Why do you ask?"

"Because that's all I've ever seen you do." She pointed out, adding a bit of milk and sugar to her cup. For a long moment things were quite and calm, but tense nonetheless. He could feel her reiatsu flaring with irate impatience until it finally happened. "How'd you get to be the strongest doing nothing but sitting on your ass?"

He blinked at her rather offensive tone. "I've always been strong… too strong."

She scoffed at his vagueness and took a sip from her cup. "Too strong? How so?"

"Eh, never mind that." His reply was soft, almost sorrowful even making the shinigami before him narrow suspicious eyes at his being. Her reaction was almost irritating like most of them were and yet he continuously ignored them and the growing displeasure in his gut. Her eyes spoke volumes whether she was aware of it or not.

You're a monster, and monsters can't feel.

It was subtle, but there, screaming at him as those beautiful vindictive eyes rubbed it in his face. So many things about him easily contradicted what she believed and every time he felt the urge to reply, make her see that he was different, that despite the hole in his chest he had a heart, he would clamp his mouth shut all the tighter. The heavy weight of the reminder that he was everything she thought and more hung at the base of his neck and he could do nothing to change it.

His breath vacated his lungs rather loudly and his eyes swept to the still untouched mound of sugary yellow flour. "Why don't you eat that?" He reached over to pluck the ignored muffin from her thigh with the intention of holding it up in which to remind her it was still there, but the instans his hand got too close she did something completely irrational.

She grabbed his wrist.

And not gently either. A vice grip.

Not only did it cease his movements but it made his eyes haze darkly and his skin burn pleasantly where she touched him. He didn't jerk away despite knowing that he should when a wave of heat rushed through his body and a primal hunger crept slowly through him as his brain latched onto one simple thought.

Shinigami.

His counterpart, of course, appeared oblivious to his current predicament as she mumbled and glanced sideways, "I'll get to it."

Starrk blinked and bit back those lingering primitive desires he still possessed from his most basic stage as a hollow. He knew the instant Aizen assigned him to watching her that just being around her would be hazardous. He could evolve a million times over and still those baser instincts and the way he reacted in her presence would be there, drifting about in the reptilian brain, bobbing about similar to a piece of driftwood on the gentle tide.

She let go, and he was closer to being fine again.

He cleared his throat and picked up his cup, taking a long sip of the black coffee as the crinkling of plastic wrap finally reached his ear. Rukia clawed the plastic away viciously until she reached her goal. A golden yellow muffin littered with black speckled speeds greeted her as Starrk tried in desperation to confuse and contradict his own brain by means of sensory overload.

It appeared to be working. He was no longer concerned with how warm and soft her skin felt or how wonderfully a simple touch from her hand could make his body heat up so quickly. He set his cup back on the tray and watched her fingers pick off a chunk of food and pop it into her mouth. It must have been satisfactory enough. She didn't complain and she went to take another bite.

Rukia swallowed down the piece of food and turned her violet gaze up at him when she noticed he had yet to stop staring. Chagrin mixed with curiosity darkened the rich purple and she simply wouldn't take no for an answer. "What do you mean too strong?"

"Uh, do we really have to talk about this?" His blue eyes closed and his arm reached up, his hand gripped the nape of his neck and rubbed it in reluctance. He really didn't want to speak of his past, the way he wandered alone for more years than he cared to count. His brethren dropping dead just from exposure to his power and the bitter desolation that skyrocketed with every occurrence.

"Yes." Her response was immediate and almost a growl of demanding and he knew all at once there was no way he was going to get out of giving her an answer.

His eyelids fluttered open and blank eyes drank in her scowling face. "Jeez, you are a persistent shinigami I see."

Her eyes widened briefly before scowl went to glare in 1.2 seconds. "And what's your point hollow?" She made sure to bite out the last word and it came out rather pompous sounding to her displeasure. She didn't like to consider herself arrogant but right now it was difficult not to and her mouth shut tight before continuing to fish for an answer. "Just tell me what you meant already."

Starrk glared at her, actually glared. Her last comment was the last straw, started by the overbearing blazing glances of hers and his blue eyes narrowed, lips tugging into a miniscule sneer. "I wonder if all shinigami are so intolerant." His voice was bored and dry but it invoked something in her that made her face scrunch and her fist clench. "What I meant was I always had a tendency to inadvertently kill my comrades with my reiatsu. At least until I split my soul."

Rukia's jaws set hard and she reached out to drop the remainder of her muffin on the tray. She had a very overwhelming urge to punch him in the face as she hissed at him. "Are you calling me some kind of racist?"

His head tilted as if considering it. "In a sense, I suppose."

Violet eyes jolted open in outrage and two delicate hands struck palm down harshly on the floor in front of her. "You, bastard. I'm not a racist. I like people just fine it's you hollow I can't stand."

"I'm not a hollow." He pointed out and gestured slowly to the broken remnants of the mask hanging at his throat. "I'm an arrancar, shinigami."

She huffed furiously. "It's Rukia and it doesn't matter. Arrancar, hollow, they're all the same."

His glare this time was enough to make her swallow visibly and cause her petite form to lean backwards to put space between them. "Your opinions are fabricated and biased."

"How so?" There was no way her ideals were wrong. She'd been taught everything she needed to know about the creatures in a reputable school. If that weren't enough she spent years exterminating them and saving souls in the process. Hollows were monsters, parasites even, with no remorse.

"You're under the impression that arrancar are mindless soul eaters without feelings… That alone is biased."

She should just shut up. Her mind was screaming at her to but her mouth didn't exactly receive the memo as it continued to lash out. "You expect me to believe you have feelings, other than hunger and bloodlust?"

"I do." He stated so simply, voice full of sincerity.

When it reached her ears it made her stomach churn in a horrible way. Her face softened and she looked defeated as her head bowed to stare at her legs. "When?"

When?

She wanted proof that there was some sort of humanity in him as he claimed and this didn't come as a shock to him. "When my comrades died, I was lonely. When I split my soul and spawned Lilynette, I was overjoyed." Her head never moved but her eyes did. They looked up through her eyelashes and into his and their gaze remained fixed, but what he noticed most was for the first time she didn't appear scared or intimidated. "And when you sit there pretending to be superior to me, I'm infuriated."

He would almost swear that in that instant he saw regret flicker in her lovely eyes, that or understanding. "You don't seem 'infuriated' to me."

The softness of her voice is what caught him off guard. She was so feisty, so willing to latch onto that one belief that she was better than him, that shinigami were better then his race, that now she just sounded pathetic. "This whole arguing thing doesn't jive with me. I'd rather not fight if I can help it."

"Why not? Sometimes you have no choice." She broke their eye contact and rested her chin on her palm. So many memories clouded her mind and her eyelids drooped in sorrow.

"I prefer not to." Resting his arms on his lap he knew he had a choice while taking in her appearance. He could take the high road and drop it now or the low road and spit something insulting at her. His eyebrows narrowed and he made his choice. "You shinigami wouldn't know much about that though. All you do is fight, even each other. When it comes down to it you're no better than us."

It was hardly a second later that her mind became blinded by furry, no longer thinking in terms of rationality as she maneuvered herself onto her haunches in preparation to lunge. He had no time to react before she was diving over the tray nestled between them, her upper body colliding with his chest, knocking him off balance until he fell back hitting the floor with a thud.

He stared up from his lying position on the floor, brain scrambling to register just what exactly happened as her face lifted to peer down at him with slanted eyes. She growled something, screaming and spitting venomous words that didn't register. All he could think was that she was warm and his body shuddered pleasantly, flesh tingling as sat upright on his midsection, both legs nestled on each side of his torso.

If she hadn't been consumed by her anger she may have noticed that the position they were in was severely compromising but she didn't and until she had finished her tirade she didn't move an inch. When she finally went to clamber off his body his arm shot out, gripping her shoulder and keeping her still.

She yanked at her arm, trying to pry it from his fingers but was dismayed to find they only tightened to an almost painful extent. She kept wondering just what he was doing and she immediately flushed when she looked down, taking into account that she was straddling his lower stomach. His blue eyes were darker than usual and she yelped when his left hand grabbed the upper back portion of her left thigh, his right slowly trailing from her shoulder to the side of her neck.

It was sensual and caused her eyes to widen and gape dumfounded at him as her body shivered in a small surge of excitement. His lips quirked at this as he took advantage of her hesitance and momentary confusion by grazing his left hand up her thigh to linger on her backside, giving a squeeze and making her hips jerk.

A deep lusty growl rumbled in the back of his throat and he attempted to push her down his body, get her sitting in just the right place but her head shook and immediately after she slapped him, hard. "Let go." It was shaky but demanding and he felt himself complying without a second thought.

Once his hands were off her she bolted off him and paced to the opposite end of the room. It hadn't occurred to her to rush out the door, but if it had he probably would have let her go. He sat up, still tingling in a mildly aroused state when something just occurred to him. He never glanced her way, some from embarrassment and frustration at her rejection, but more to spare him the look on her face. A look he could only predict as frightful revolution. "Why were you upset?"

She trembled at his voice as she hugged herself in her standing position. "W-what?"

He frowned at her shaky voice. He hated it. "When you were talking about fighting, you seemed distraught." He stood and began for the door, not waiting for an answer as he slid it open. "I'll get Aizen to move you elsewhere if you'd prefer," and he left.

She blinked at the door and remained standing for a long while. She was breathing shakily and her body trembled just every now and then. She couldn't deny that she was slightly afraid, but also ashamed. Ashamed that she had liked his touches. Ashamed that she had behaved like an arrogant noble her brother always wanted her to become. Ashamed that she believed she was better than him, when she clearly was not.

Walking over she pushed the tray away with her foot and collected the pillow he had been using. She set it back into the pile and sunk down burying her head in the softness. She yawned and blinked a few times as her eyes drifted closed. She wanted to sleep and forget that thought that gnawed at her like a relentless wolf.

Eventually, after much tossing and turning, she did.

It was hours later when she woke up. She sniffed and wiped tear marks off her cheeks as she found herself staring at the wall as usual. She flipped over in the dark room and noticed the bulky form on the pillows across from her. Right away she sat up and squinted trying to see him better in the inky blackness. She didn't hear any snoring and his right leg was bent up, foot flat on the floor as his left leg lay draped over his right knee.

He shifted and she knew he wasn't asleep.

She wiped at her cheeks again feeling a fresh stream of embarrassment overtake her. She had been crying in her sleep, crying over so many things, and if he had been there the whole time then he'd have heard her.

Her eyes began to adjust better to the darkness and she could see that he was staring up at the ceiling. He didn't turn when he heard her wake or ask if she was alright, he simply blinked at the whiteness and let her be.

Frowning she shuffled to her feet, sauntering forward with motivated steps till she reached his side and sat down. This caught his attention and his eyes rolled to the side to look at her, shocked to see her reach out and adjust some of his pillows next to him. His mouth opened and shut as he tried to think up something to say as she crawled in and laid next to him without hesitation.

When she got close he nearly sat up but her arm snaked around his waist and her forehead rested against the side of his chest, a single tear spilled from her left eye and he was compelled to keep still. He folded back his left arm, his knuckles grazing the skin of her cheek and wiping the liquid away as a muffled whisper reached his ears. "We're the same."

It was his turn to ask as he whispered back in a single hushed breath, "How so?"

"We're both alone." Her eyes shut and she didn't elaborate any farther for a long moment, the vulnerability in her tone giving him little incentive to ask for details. Her elegant fingers gripped the cloth of his shirt as if to remind her he was still there. "My sister abandoned me and I was alone. Renji came along and for a long time he saved me, but I was adopted and my brother despised me. I was alone again."

She inhaled sharply as if not to cry and he remained still, listening quietly to the stretched silence and hushed whispers of her soothing voice, wondering just what it felt to be saved by someone else. "I thought Kaien would be there forever, like the brother I'd dreamed mine to be, but a hollow possessed his body and I killed them both… So again, I was alone."

"Until Ichigo." She smiled a small smile of contentment at the mention of his name. He caught this and nodded. He understood her adoration and was not the slightest bit jealous as he'd imagine other men to be. If he'd saved her from the ache of solitude they shared something most people wouldn't understand, but he did.

Rukia's eyes opened and flicked up to look at him. His face was blank again and he stared at the ceiling but after a few moments of silence she felt his left arm move, wrapping its way around her back and upper arm. His fingers gingerly stroking up and down at the cloth of her uniform in what she assumed was an attempt at compassion.

"_I'm not a hollow. I'm an arrancar, shinigami."_

She suddenly moved and his arm slackened a little at the thought he'd crossed the line, expecting her to leave his side, but she didn't. He nearly gasped in astonishment as she hoisted her upper body, leaning forward and dropping her lips at the corner of his mouth. She kissed him gently, and he noted reluctantly as well, fearing he'd pull back and reject her.

"_We're the same."_

He didn't. He turned and kissed her full-fledged on the mouth, relishing the feel of her soft supple lips moving against his own and watching in great satisfaction how her eyes hazed with want and drooped closed. After a moment he pulled back and let his tongue slip out to run the expanse of her bottom lip, a prequel to later.

He watched as her lips parted in a willing invitation, and though tempting, he bypassed it, dropping his mouth to her jaw line where he nipped the skin, leaving a diminutive bite just beneath the ear. Pulling back, his right hand clutched her waist and pushed her gently onto her back to lay flat.

With a flutter of eyelashes she was nervously tracking his movements as he turned onto his side, his right hand making deliberately slow work of the cloth belt holding her top together, giving her a chance to change her mind and push him away. When she didn't and his hand pried apart the last remaining knot he moved his hand beneath her body, splaying his fingers over her lower back as he sat up onto his knees and pulled her with him.

His hand moved, the warm touch wafting across her back to her waist and upwards, skimming over the right side of her taunt stomach to her breast. He paused, taking the time to thumb her nipple through the black material and give a delightful squeeze that sent her hitched breath into a faint whimper of approval.

"Hmm, you like that." The corners of his lips twitched in a smirk as the pleasant noise reaching his ears invoking a swell of pride to course through him. "You want more?" He allowed himself to repeat the action briefly before continuing on his journey upwards to her shoulder. Grasping the fabric of her uniform he pushed it away, slipping it down her arms while leaning into her to trail the tip of his nose over her neck and inhale the scent.

She nodded. The huskiness of his voice accompanied by the ministrations of his hand was making her body hot. The outer lining of her clothing slipped away falling limp on the floor and she pulled her arms through the sleeves, leaving the garment unattached and useless. Self-consciousness was starting to creep up when she felt his hands drop to her stomach and begin fiddling with the undershirt, his nose and mouth now buried in her deeply colored hair, the smell of fruit and lavender invading his senses.

Soon enough the white robe was joining the pile of discarded clothing, the silk cloth falling away and revealing her upper body to his hungry eyes. A seductive smile lit his face, his right hand cupped her cheek and slowly stroked downwards before stopping at her chest. His hand mere inches from where she wanted it as his thumb dipped to caress the pale skin at the top of her breast. "You can do better than that. Tell me like a big girl."

She shuddered at his touch, her eyes hazing with desire and a twinge of anger. She clutched his wrist and pulled his hand down making him touch her bare skin. "I want more."

Starrk did as she wanted with little hesitation, cupping the velvet skin and rolling the hard tip between his thumb and forefinger. A soft moan left her lips, her head tilted back with eyes closed in absolute enjoyment while he eyed her exposed throat. Leaning in he dropped his lips to it, kissing and biting his way up to her ear as he breathed out, "That's a good girl."

Another blissful moan filled his ears as he continued to kneed and stroke her, the wonderful pitches she was making had him shifting about to get more comfortable as his manhood grew harder. When he suddenly let go an ineffective whine left her throat and she attempted to pull his hands back, but unlike before he wasn't having any of it and shook her delicate fingers free of their grip.

His own shirt was quickly discarded and he reached out to grasp her, pulling her forward with one hand as the other lifted and beckoned her closer, "Come here."

Obediently she crawled closer, helping him tug her lithe form into his lap. Both of his calloused hands seized her thighs and maneuvered her till she was sitting with both legs on either side of his own, her now damp core was hovering just above his throbbing erection.

His hips rolled up, grinding their pelvises together as his head dipped and his tongue slipped out to flick over her breast. A surprised yet pleased groan met his actions accompanied by two hands locking a death grip on his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his flesh harshly. An amused chuckle left him and he held her hips firmly, forcefully pushing her down to make her dry hump him yet again.

Lips parted on both sides as Rukia gasped and Starrk groaned deeply. Sucking her nipple into his mouth he rolled his tongue over it, teasing her relentlessly till she was squirming above him. His left hand moved to tug at the hemline of her pants and he suddenly felt the moist warmth of her mouth sucking at a spot just behind his earlobe.

He gave an encouraging growl and continued with his own task, ripping her pants down her thighs as far as he could before cupping her sex. A finger grazed over the damp fabric and the pad of his thumb rubbed at her clit through the flimsy fabric. A quiver racked her body and she bit his neck to keep from moaning, but her efforts were rapidly rendered futile as his fingers yanked the material aside and one long digit slipped deeply into the wet heat.

"Mmm, Starrk." She panted, clawing viciously at his shoulders as he stroked the inside of her core. He started to move his finger inside her, rubbing her walls as his thumb made light circles over her clit. His reward was a series of pants and incoherent praise as he pleased her with his hand, placing a kiss at the center of her collarbone while glancing up at her. She was trembling in ecstasy, lips parting in rapid breaths, her eyes screwed tight and he smirked when her hips began to move with his hand.

She was close, he could tell. Her inner walls were already beginning to spasm, her hips rocked desperately, and her voice latched onto his name as she panted over and over again. When she was just about to explode he pulled away leaving her frustrated and confused and he had to grab her arms to keep her from finishing herself off. He held both wrists in his left hand above her head as she pouted and whimpered, struggling to get free.

Lifting his right hand he tapped a finger against her lips as he chided her, "Not yet." She hissed and glared at him which only caused him to chuckle and push her back onto the heap of pillows. Releasing her he dispatched her body of the remaining garments and drank in the sight of her naked form. She was pale and small with no remaining marks of her previous injuries, but that aside absolutely beautiful.

He stood, his hands pulling away his belt and her eyes went wide at the prospect of seeing him completely naked. Her nervous fear didn't seem to be bothering him much, if anything it was amusing him and encouraging him to continue as he briskly dropped the confining pants and stepped away.

When he glanced back the awed look on her face at seeing the stiff and now painfully throbbing length of him was a huge ego boost but also succeeded in arousing him farther. His eyes roamed her form and lingered at the apex between her now closed legs, the pink muscle in his mouth darted out to lick his lips as he lowered his muscular form back to the floor.

Trailing his hand up her leg he locked it behind her knee and attempted to pull them open, but he felt her legs tighten closer together in resistance. He smiled when he noticed she was still wide eyed and staring down his body with fearful fascination. He gave her thigh a light smack and her attention was immediately fixed on his face as she scowled and tried to kick him. "Don't hit me."

He caught her leg, holding her by the heel of her foot as he kissed her ankle and narrowed dark lusty eyes at her. His head rose from her skin slowly, throughout the entire process his eyes never left hers and that familiar intimidation filled her gut. "Spread your legs," his voice was low and demanding and she complied almost instantly, looking away with a blush as she bent to his command.

He reached out and stroked her glistening slit, tracing his finger up to her clit and giving it a flick. She hissed and her hips bucked off the pillows beneath her and once again he stopped. When the heat of his hand was gone she growled in utter frustration and turned back to him only to flush severely as a new wave of heat washed over her and a gush of liquid pooled between her thighs. His finger was in his mouth and he was licking her wetness off of it.

Dragging it from his mouth he grabbed the tops of her thighs and held them open, his thumbs massaging circles on the soft insides as he bent over and licked her sensitive flesh from top to bottom. A shrill moan filed the air and her fingers buried in his hair nails digging into his scalp as she tried to push him closer, desperate to feel that intense pleasure again.

He hissed as felt blood gathering at the crescent shaped cuts under his brown hair but ignored it, licking again and swirling the tip of his tongue around the engorged bundle of nerves. He repeated the process several times as the girl beneath him writhed in helpless pleasure. The taste of her thick in his mouth as he nicked her with his teeth and moved lower to plunge his tongue inside her, licking at her inner walls as she wailed and arched her hips, panting and pleading for more.

He smirked as he batted her hands away, almost hating to do but yet again he pulled away before she could experience that ultimate bliss. She nearly cried this time but he crawled up her body and pulled her head back by the hair. Her lips parted in an outraged gasp and he took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth, kissing her hard as he wriggled between her legs.

There was no warning from him as his hips surged forwards and he was buried deep inside. A deep gutteral growl sounded against her lips as she blinked multiple times just waiting for her brain to catch up. It wasn't painful like she expected, especially considering the size of him and once he started a smooth rhythm she found it quite enjoyable and eagerly pushed her hips up to meet his.

She pulled her mouth away from his and began kissing his neck as he rocked back and forth slowly gaining momentum as the pleasure increased. He growled a little as Rukia took the opportunity to explore the vast majority of his neck with her mouth, seeking out which places made him groan and which made him hiss followed by a hip jerk.

It wasn't long before his right hand pushed her thigh up and his fingers sought her clit. Her breath hitched as he pinched it and he held tight her hip with his other hand as his hips began bucking erratically. She bit down behind his ear as he massaged her into completion and she came with a loud scream of his name. Her inner muscles clenched him tightly as he continued to thrust, riding her through her orgasm while he fisted the pillows and erupted inside her. An animalistic growl echoing in her ear as a scorching stream of liquid filled her womb.

An arm wove around her back and a second later she was lying on top of him, her forehead resting on his shoulder as she panted and composed herself enough to climb off him. When she finally managed to move and nuzzle into the pillows next to him she noticed a deep look of satisfaction on his face. She pulled his arm around her and he allowed it, holding her and stroking her shoulder till she was sleeping peacefully at his side.

Her only thoughts before she drifted off were that they were both wrong. He wasn't a monster or an arrancar.

He was a spirit.

* * *

><p><strong>Author Note<strong>: Well my first Starrk x Rukia one shot. I hope it was enjoyable for you all. Thanks for reading and if you'd take a moment to review I'd appreciate it very much. Also I know my lemon scene isn't that great, but truth be told I sort of get embarrassed writing them, but I did what I could for you guys.


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